Renegade of the Isles
by darksentinel
Summary: Ayla had escaped her home on the Yamani Islands after being formally disowned by her family, for rejecting traditional values with her fiery and temperamental outbursts. Now she is set to start a new life in Tortall.
1. Arrival

**Renegade of the Isles**

Ayla had escaped her home on the Yamani Islands after being formally disowned by her family for rejecting traditional values with her fiery and temperamental outbursts.

Now she has been accepted into both the Tortallan Upper and Under class; yet no one suspects that she brings more with her than her temper, ready tongue and outstanding combat skills, least of all her.

Chapter 1: Arrival

Ayla watched Port Caynn draw closer. For once she stayed quiet, waiting as her new life approached. The captain of the tradeship, a robustly built merchant from the Copper Isles who had thankfully asked no questions when she had offered him five silver nobles for passage to anywhere on the mainland, ordered the sails to be gathered in as a war galley flying Tortallan colours drew up aside the bow. The Tortallan customs officer barely glanced at the captain's papers before ordering his men to search the ship. Ayla, knowing the trader's hold carried considerably more than the cargo of Yamani forged weapons stated on the form, quickly decided she had little future with the now worried-looking captain, and, grabbing the duffel she had carefully hidden behind the various coils of rope on the deck, quickly slipped over the side of the ship and onto the lower deck of the wargalley.

The Tortallan vessel was not built along the conventional lines of war ships. Flat decked and with low sides, it was designed more to be a troop transport and landing craft than for naval combat, and offered few places to hide. Nevertheless, Ayla was soon hidden from sight among the carefully folded sails in the stern. Knowing that she would likely only be discovered if the ship set out to sea and the sails were put up, and also that the issue with the Yamani trader cum smuggler would not soon be settled, she allowed herself to relax and catch up on some much needed sleep.

The soft sand of footsteps awoke her, she judged the distance to whoever made them. It seemed to only be someone going to the rear of the vessel, yet she quickly burrowed deeper into her hiding place. A shout, followed by a constant rhythmic rushing noise. They were moving, she realised, and hoped it was landwards. Now that the footsteps had retreated, she could afford a peek over the side, and felt relieved as she saw that the port city was now considerably closer. She also noticed that the sun was much lower, she must have slept the better part of three hours, she reasoned. She settled down for a prolonged wait, but this time remained awake.

The galley landed, and the supposed Copper Isles trader was forcefully disembarked and marched off together with the soldiers who had been on board. Knowing she was next to a busy dock with watchful sentries, she was unable to suppress the excitement welling up inside her; her new life was about to begin.


	2. Water and Strangers

Author's Note: Ok I hurried to get this chapter out. It may seem a bit strange, but it will make sense in the long run. Don't expect another chapter until at least Sunday (12 Sept) or maybe later since I'm sort of extremely busy with school and stuff. But who knows maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised ;-).

Chapter 2: Water and Strangers

Ayla watched the silhouettes of the dockside sentries moving along the wharf and wondered how she was going to get off the ship without them noticing her. It had seemed like a good plan at first, waiting until dark, but that was before the watch suddenly doubled with dusk, and large gas lamps were lit at even intervals along the waterfront. She sighed, there really only was one way to go, over the side and into the water; unless of course she simply took the entire vessel and landed somewhere else. For a moment a wild gleam came into her eye and she wondered what it would be like to pilot a vessel, with the Tortallan navy at her heels. Then she berated herself, breaking the law in such a major way was not the most ideal way of starting her new life, or trying to gain acceptance into Tortallan society – especially as she had absolutely no idea how to steer the ship, or even get it moving in the first place.

Her duffel, containing the few belongings she could call her own, had already been carefully wrapped in oilskin when she'd left, and her clothing had been meticulously chosen for various beneficial aspects: its many pockets, many of which were hidden, the fact that she could hide several knives and other useful tools in it without difficulty, and most importantly, the way it not only repelled water but also dried so quickly that she'd always wondered whether there was magic hidden somewhere in the lining. In fact the only thing that was likely to be affected negatively in any way by her impending excursion into the waters of Port Caynn was herself. She hated water, especially sea water. Whether it was a mere face wash or a swim, she abhorred the feeling of water on her skin, and it often made her feel uneasy, and if not, then at least hungry. Although she knew how to swim, and greatly valued personal hygiene, making herself touch water for any reason other than drinking was always a rigorous mental effort. She realised this was strange, but had never spent too much thought on it, after all if sea water made her nauseous there obviously was something wrong with her, and, being somewhat of a perfectionist, she wouldn't have been able to face the idea that she was not just different, but somehow flawed.

Eventually, Ayla worked up the nerve to gently lower first the duffel over the side of the ship (having first made sure it was tightly closed, and would not sink), and then, gingerly, herself. If anyone had been watching, she thought they might mistake her for a cat in the way she quickly withdrew her hand when the gently lapping waves first threatened to touch it. She steeled herself, and forced herself to lower herself down into the water. She gasped as her skin touched the water, but not out of nausea for she did not feel at all uneasy or uncomfortable. Rather, she gasped at the complete lack of any discomfort whatsoever. Contrary to her expectations, the sea water was positively enjoyable as it cradled her, and she delighted in the sensual feel of the warm water brushing her skin. She was amazed, and almost forgot where she was as she lost herself in the refreshing and uplifting buoyancy of the ocean. Almost. She pulled her bag to her and slowly swam towards the looming shapes of several large dockside buildings with long quite strokes.

The buildings turned out to be warehouses, and she managed to climb onto the dock while keeping them between herself and the sentries by the gas lamps. She withdrew from the water with regret. Dearly she would have loved to stay in those calming waves, letting them wash her into oblivion, without the troubles of past, present or future. Yet she forced herself to leave the gentle carefree swells, for one thing swimming silently was hard work and she was already exhausted from her previous travels, for another she was growing very hungry – that was one thing that hadn't changed about her contact with water. She silently ran across the dock and into a narrow alleyway, hoping that none of the sentries was watching her of the dock. When she heard no shouts, she relaxed slightly and headed down the alley without bothering to check if there was anywhere else to go. After all, she reasoned, when you have nowhere to go and nowhere to return to, one path was as good as any other.

However she did not neglect carefully checking her surroundings, and when the stranger first emerged from an even smaller side-alley she was immediately aware of her. The stranger didn't appear to notice her though, being rather more preoccupied with binding the bleeding gash in her arm with a rough tourniquet torn from the hem of her light cloak. Unsure of what to do, Ayla decided to do nothing, and simply wait until the woman noticed her, however she cautiously loosened two of her knives in their scabbards.

After a short time the strange woman straightened up, and looked at Ayla. Piercing eyes, whose colour Ayla could not determine in the gloom, stared out of a face framed by short, slightly curly hair. That gaze held her like a raptor's, cold and hard, and devoid of all emotion. After what seemed a lifetime, the woman lowered her eyes. Finally she spoke in a soft, gentle tone that seemed in complete opposition to the message her eyes held:

"You are new here, I see. For few venture into this district, and none of those would carry a pack, or look like they'd just gone for a swim". Ayla was surprised, she had expected an introduction, or a request for help with her injury, not a comment that sounded somewhere between statement and accusation. She was spared the difficulty of searching for a suitable reply by a noise in the side-alley, and the appearance of a man wreathed in a cloak which also served to hide the lower part of his face. Only his eyes could be seen, empty pools of darkness which seemed to take in every single detail in a single flickering glance. He spoke, in a rough voice, obviously addressing the woman but never looking at her for more than a moment, before those eerie eyes moved on again, "We must leave at once. More will come soon". Without a further glance he disappeared down the alley behind Ayla.

The woman sighed softly, "Come, if you stay here you won't survive the night, or, if you do, you'll regret it. Follow me". And she followed the path the man had taken. Ayla paused for a moment, before picking up her duffel and following them. It wasn't as if there was anything else to do, she reasoned, and while they were certainly strange individuals, they didn't seem to have any malicious intents. At least, not that she could detect.


	3. The Joys of Port Caynn

Author's Note: Just a short taster chapter to tell you all that I am back up and running. Sorry about the huge delay, I've been rather busy with exams and prelims and stuff…

Chapter 3: The Joys of Port Caynn

To Ayla, narrow alleys had never been a personal favourite; she preferred woods or wide open spaces where you could see everything. Back home – or what used to be home, she reprimanded herself – alleys of the sort she was in now were virtually non-existent, since most of the houses were made out of paper. This alley was particularly bad, it was moist, slimy, it stank, there were frequent obstacles on the uneven ground – some of which had moved as she had attempted to avoid them – and the dark openings made her nervous. Her unease grew as her journey continued, following the barely discernible figure of the stranger.

Eventually, as she began seriously contemplating the thought of slowing down – she was still tired and her body, in particular arms, shoulders and shins, was incredibly sore from frequent collisions with various objects – the woman she was following entered what appeared to be a large drainage pipe and, after signalling Ayla to follow her, made her along it on hands and knees. After brief hesitation, Ayla followed and discovered that the pipe led into a sewer. She'd thought the alley had been bad enough, but it was sheer luxury bathed in rose-water compared to crawling through the thick sludge a bare hands breadth below her face (and her highly-offended nose), even without thinking about the overwhelming stench that permeated the confined space. Determinedly she continued, trying not to breathe through the aforementioned nose, and not to splash anything into her mouth as she breathed. She barely noticed the eerie light emitted by a multitude of plant growth on the sides.

After traversing several bends in the pipe, she followed the mysterious woman through a hole in the roof of the sewer and emerged, dripping filth, into a dimly lit room. The woman turned to her, "normally we take easier routes, but we didn't have time tonight. Welcome to the abode of the king's main representative in Port Caynn." Ayla quickly realised, after the briefest consideration of her charming route to her present location, that she didn't mean the royal, official ruler of Tortall. The woman, seeing the question forming on her lips, continued "aye, and I don't mean him that sits in that big palace in Chorus. We are members of the Court of the Rogue. Anyway, we should clean ourselves up" she gestured towards a barrel of water and a copper basin, "by the way, I'm Kaisha".

"Ayla", the girl replied. She looked down and realised that shaking hands might not be overly appropriate. Kaisha, seeing her look, grinned and said "pleased to meet you and all that. Come one, I want to get clean and do something about this cut." They roughly washed hands arms and legs, and were just finished when the man Ayla had seen earlier returned. He spoke to Kaisha: "where have you been? And why did you bring _her_?" His gaze shifted accusingly to Ayla.

"We came as quickly as we could. The cut slowed me down, and I wanted to wash that sewer filth out of it as soon as possible. As to why I brought _her_" Kaisha replied, "she's obviously not from here, and I'd say she's left home. A pretty thing like her shouldn't be in the alleys – even if she can take care of herself, which I don't doubt she can. She's young enough to learn our ways, and to be honest, we could use some new members."

"Very well," the man scowled and turned back to Kaisha, "as long as she is not a spy sent by my Lord Provost, or one of Tarik's, we'll see how she turns out. She's your responsibility." He turned and left.

"Come Aylas, let me show you around briefly, and then we'll talk. Don't mind Shadow, he's been bad-tempered ever since his partner went missing." Ayla followed her through a doorway covered by a bead curtain, thinking hard.


End file.
